


got you in my sights

by countthestars



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 13:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11510460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countthestars/pseuds/countthestars
Summary: “This is a disaster,” Liam says, plopping down at the Gryffindor table next to Louis. Louis doesn't bother looking up from his treacle tart, which isn't exactly the sympathetic response that Liam was fishing for.or, a hogwarts au in which liam pines, harry gets around, and they both get by with a little help from their friends.





	got you in my sights

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally written for a fic exchange but i'm setting it free (and re-posting, oops. sorry if you were one of the few people who read it when it was anonymous!). i won't even say what the original prompt was because i went hugely off course. soz about that.
> 
> big thanks to ferryboatpeak, who offered great advice despite their aversion to the source material <33\. any remaining mistakes are my own. title from 'hungry eyes' by eric carmen.

This is a disaster.

“This is a disaster,” Liam says, plopping down at the Gryffindor table next to Louis. Louis doesn't bother looking up from his treacle tart, which isn't exactly the sympathetic response that Liam was fishing for.

“I _said_ ,” Liam repeats, flopping over onto the table, cheek pressed to his empty plate, “this is a _disaster_.” He closes his eyes, willing the ground to open and swallow him up. A drop of – something – hits his cheek, and Liam cracks one eye open. Somehow he's managed to conjure a tiny raincloud that's now hovering over his head. A second raindrop lands just above his eyebrow, rolling down his face.

Liam wills the raincloud to go away, but his magic isn't that cooperative. Bloody wordless spells. They never work right for Liam.

“Sick cloud,” Louis says, finally looking up from his treacle. He pokes at it, eyes going wide. “Feels like candy-floss!”

Liam watches despondently as Louis tears off a little piece of cloud and stuffs it in his mouth. The face he makes when it touches his tongue would be hilarious, if it weren't for the disaster that is Liam's life that no one is even acknowledging. “Ugh,” Louis says, spitting out half-chewed cloud. “It doesn't taste like candy-floss. It tastes like – like sadness and kicked puppies.”

“That's not a taste,” Liam tells him solemnly. “That's how I _feel_.”

“Gross. Liam, your feelings are gross.”

The cloud rains down harder as Liam sits up, droplets smacking against his skull. “Louis. You're not listening to me. I had double Potions this morning--”

Louis snorts. “Well, that was your first mistake.”

“--and you are not going to believe who I'm paired with.” Liam pauses for effect. Louis just blinks at him. Sighing loudly, Liam says, “Harry Styles. I'm paired with bloody Harry Styles. For the entire _year_.”

Finally, Louis' face folds into something resembling pity. He claps Liam on the shoulder, squeezing gently. “I am so, so sorry,” he says with complete sincerity, “that you are paired with your one true love. Honestly, Liam, I can't believe the faculty would allow for such a miscarriage of justice, forcing you to interact with someone you are in love with. In fact, I think--”

“Shut up,” Liam tells him, pulling out his wand to vanish the soggy cloud. He could use a good drying spell as well, but he always tends to catch himself on fire when he tries that one. “I'm not _in love_ with him, first of all--”

“But you do want to touch his dick.”

“Louis, there are _children_ around,” Liam hisses.

With a shrug, Louis pops another bite of treacle in his mouth, chewing noisily. “Sorry, mate, but I just don't see how this is a disaster. You've been looking for an excuse to talk to him since fifth year. Now you've got one.”

Liam doesn't bother pointing out that he's had plenty of reasons to talk to Harry. The problem is the way he becomes a stammering mess whenever Harry’s around, like he’s been hit with a Confundus Charm, and how Liam's going to make it through an entire year of Potions without choking on his own tongue. He prefers to pine pathetically from afar, thanks. At least then there’s less chance of humiliating himself.

“You're no help whatsoever,” Liam says, climbing to his feet.

Louis beams at him. “I try my best.”

-

Telling Niall about it only goes slightly better.

Actually, it goes worse.

“Harry Styles?” he says, squinting at Liam even though he's wearing his glasses. Liam has it on good authority Niall only wears his glasses for aesthetic purposes, but for some reason no one ever calls him out on it. “I heard he's, like, part Veela. You should be careful, Liam.”

Liam frowns. “He is not.”

Niall drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still manages to carry to the rest of the greenhouse, and Liam wishes he’d waited until after the rest of the Hufflepuff class had cleared out to start this conversation. “You know he was caught shagging Grimmy? The DJ? He's, like, old enough to be Styles' _dad_.”

He's not. Grimmy's only nine years older than Harry. Liam knows, because he checked. He also may or may not have spent the first half of his summer hols listening to Grimmy’s radio show to see what the fuss was all about, and the second half of his summer hols listening to Grimmy’s radio show because, well. Grimmy really was both charming and funny. Two traits Liam sadly lacked. “Niall--”

“And Swift,” Niall adds, almost thoughtfully. “They were shagging on and off, like, all last year. You know, she's actually a sweetheart, if you get to know her.”

“Okay, but that doesn't prove--”

Snipping a bud off a dittany plant with more force than Liam thinks is probably required, Niall says, “Malik, too. I’m pretty sure he bedhopped between them, actually.” Shaking his head, he adds, “You know how Slytherins are. Like to keep it all in house.”

Liam doesn’t. “Look, it's no secret that he gets around, but that doesn't—”

Letting his glasses slip down his nose, Niall looks at Liam over the edge of the frames. There's a smudge of dirt on his cheek and on the yellow tie knotted loosely around his neck. “He tried to pull me once, did I tell you that?”

Liam gapes at him. “ _What?_ ”

“I mean, there was a bit of Fire Whiskey involved, so my memory isn't the clearest. I’m not actually sure how it happened, because I was actually trying to talk to -- well, it isn’t important. He's a good kisser, though, from what I remember.” Niall cocks his head, lips pursed. “Big hands.”

“Oh, my god,” Liam says. The greenhouse is too stuffy, suddenly, the perfume of too many blooming things making his head hurt. “I thought you said Slytherins like to keep things in house!”

Niall gestures at Liam with his shears. “They _do_. Mark my words, Payno. I'm speaking from experience. He's definitely part Veela. You need to watch out.”

-

Liam almost blows off Potions completely, pacing his room half the night before his next lesson. “Like, I don't _need_ to be an Auror, right? I have other dreams that don't require a NEWT in Potions. Oh, I could be a groundskeeper! I'd be all right at that, I bet.”

Louis shakes his head, attention fixed on a bit of parchment he keeps poking with his wand. Liam’s not sure what he’s trying to do, but when it comes to Louis, usually the best policy is not to ask, and to always be ready to duck. “Don't be a fucking idiot,” he says without looking up. “Horan's just talking shite again.”

“But what if Harry _is_ part Veela?” Liam presses.

“What if both of you shut the fuck up so the rest of us could sleep?” Samuels asks from the depths of his four poster bed. His voice sounds a little muffled, like he possibly has his head shoved under his pillow.

Louis scoffs. “Oi. Bit rude to interrupt someone else’s conversation, mate.”

Climbing onto Louis’ bed, Liam closes the curtain and casts a hasty silencing charm. “Louis. _Focus_. I'm, like, predisposed. I'm not going to make it through double Potions sitting next to him. I can't do it. I'm going to make an idiot of myself, and he's going to laugh at me, and I'm going to die.” He gives Louis his best beseeching look. “Do you want me to die?”

Rolling his eyes, Louis shoves the curtain back open, leaning down to unlock the trunk at the foot of his bed. He digs around for a moment before pulling something out and offering it to Liam. “Look, just, take this amulet, all right? It'll protect you against his Veela powers. You'll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Liam takes the amulet and slips it over his head. It's a small, clouded crystal, and he pokes it doubtfully. “You sure this will work?” The odds that Louis would just happen to have an amulet with Veela protection powers seem rather slim, but maybe it's more common in the wizarding world than Liam assumed.

Louis grins, all sharp, wicked teeth. “Liam, I'm _positive_ it will work.”

-

Harry's already at their shared table when Liam arrives the next morning. He smiles at Liam, like he's genuinely happy to see him, and Liam gets a little lost in his eyes. It's just, the green of them matches the accents on his robes, and up close there are even little flecks of silver. Liam blinks, shaking himself, and rubs his thumb over the amulet. Obviously Louis was wrong, because it's not working at all.

Harry's eyebrows furrow. “What's that?”

Liam's cheeks go hot. “Um. It's – it's just a--”

Leaning in closer to peer at Liam's chest while Liam fidgets nervously, Harry barks out a surprised laugh. “Really, Liam? Do you really need an amulet to get lucky?”

“To – wait, what? What do you think this amulet is for?”

There's an amused tilt to Harry's smile now, and he taps the crystal with his finger. It feels like it's timed with the thud of Liam's heart. “I didn't think anyone over Year 5 still believed in these. They don't actually help you get laid, you know.”

Liam is going to kill Louis. Murder him, muggle style, with a blunt object. He rips the amulet over his head, stuffing it in the pocket of his robes. “Lost a bet,” he mutters. “I don't – I'm not – I don't need an amulet to – look, can we talk about something else?”

“You're cute when you're flustered,” Harry tells him.

Liam's saved from further embarrassment by the arrival of Professor Teasdale. “Open your books to page thirty-six, please,” she announces, settling at the podium in the front of the room. Leaning on her elbows so that her hair falls forward like a silver curtain, she continues, “Today we'll be brewing an Elixir to Induce Euphoria.”

It's not really a potion that requires much teamwork, especially since they each have their own cauldron. For some reason, though, Harry finds it necessary to whisper something into Liam's ear every few minutes, leaning in until his mouth is entirely too close, his hot breath tickling Liam’s skin. “Can you pass me some Shrivelfig?” “How many Sopophorous beans do you add?” “Do you stir it clockwise or anti-clockwise after adding the Wormwood?”

“Harry,” Liam says at last, careful to keep his voice even and steady. “It tells you right there on the page.”

Harry frowns. “Where? I don't see it.”

“Right--” He leans in, skimming his finger down the page of Harry's book until he finds the right instruction. “There.”

“ _Ohh_ , I see it now.” Harry shakes his head, and when his long hair brushes Liam's cheek, Liam's suddenly aware of how close they're standing.

“Um,” he says. He slowly straightens back up, swallowing audibly, and Harry grins at him, his whole face scrunched with the force of it.

“ _Really_ cute when you're flustered.”

It's too much. Liam grabs a handful of castor beans, throwing him into his cauldron without counting them. The potion bubbles up, turning a ghastly greenish color, and he hastily stirs it anti-clockwise.

It only makes the potion turn an even more sickly green, and no amount of porcupine quills can save it. Liam resigns himself to another day of poor marks, and embarrassing himself in front of Harry to boot. Maybe he really should just drop this class. He’d make a great groundskeeper, and any time Harry came near, he could hide out in the Forbidden Forest until it was safe.

“Wands away, please!” Professor Teasdale calls. “Your potions should be done brewing. I'll be coming around to each table to take a sample from everyone's cauldron.”

She starts at the front of the class, collecting samples one by one, and Harry quickly taps him on the shoulder.

“What?” Liam says, trying not to sound as miserable as he feels as he pokes at the sludgy disaster in his cauldron.

Harry winces. “Uh, sorry I made you mess up your potion. You can have some of mine, if you'd like?” Harry's Elixir is a perfect, cheerful yellow. “You did help me out, so I think it's only fair,” he adds.

He doesn't wait for Liam to respond before he vanishes the mess, quickly dumping half the contents of his cauldron into Liam's.

“Thanks,” Liam says quietly as Teasdale finally reaches them. She draws a small sample of each of their potions into twin vials, holding them up to examine closely. “Well done, boys. Both of these look excellent.”

Beaming, Harry pushes his hair off his forehead, his fingers combing through the long curls. “It was all Liam, Professor. He really has a knack for following directions.”

Teasdale snorts, pocketing their samples along with the rest. “With any luck, he’ll rub off on you.”

Liam’s overcome with a sudden, debilitating cough as Harry bites his lower lip, drawing it into his mouth. “I certainly hope he does, Professor.”

He starts packing up his things along with the rest of the class, and Teasdale claps her hands to be heard over the noise. “Next week we'll be brewing a love potion, so to prepare, I want each of you to write twelve inches on the properties of moonstone.”

Twelve inches. Liam nearly groans. He gets an elbow in the side a second later, and when he looks over, Harry's waggling his eyebrows at him.

“Love potions, eh? Bet you'll have better luck with that than your amulet.”

Liam is really, truly going to murder Louis.

-

When he makes it to the Great Hall, Louis is already there, half his plate cleared off. Liam marches over to him and slams the amulet down on the table.

“Liam,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of food. His lips twitch like he's fighting a smile. “What's got you all riled up?”

“You complete and total _wanker_. Harry told me what this amulet is really for.”

A noise halfway between a snort and a laugh escapes from Louis' mouth before he presses his lips together. “Harry told you, did he.”

“Are you trying to _ruin my life_?” Liam wails, so loudly a couple of First Years turn towards him in alarm. Dropping his voice, and onto the bench next to Louis, he rests his face in his hands. “I can never face him again.”

“Please,” Louis says, not sounding at all repentant. “I did you a favor, mate. Now he's knows you're interested!”

“You know what? I'm going to go sit with someone who won't betray me for a laugh.” Liam pushes to his feet, looking around the Great Hall for Niall. He spots him at the end of the Ravenclaw table, holding court in a sea of blue, and starts to make his way over. The conversation will probably be over his head, but that's still better than discussing his failed love life.

“Are you kidding me?” Louis calls after him. “Niall would betray you for a sandwich!”

-

Liam's no good at holding a grudge, and also it's a Hogsmeade weekend, which is why he finds himself sat at a table with Louis and Niall at the Three Broomsticks not forty-eight hours later.

Unfortunately, that leaves him with no one else to go sit with when Louis starts retelling the tale.

“You did not,” Niall says, head tipped back in a loud, braying laugh. He smacks Liam in the arm. “Mate, how did you not know what it was?”

“I'm muggle-born,” Liam reminds them, arms crossed over his chest. “And I guess I have a bad habit of _trusting my friends_.”

“Well, there's your mistake,” Niall says, taking a pull of his drink. “You should never, ever trust Louis.”

“Believe me, I won't--”

“Won't what?” A new voice cuts in, and Liam freezes. No way. No way does that voice belong to who he thinks it belongs to. He looks up and promptly swallows his tongue.

It does. It's Harry, his school robes traded in for a silky, patterned shirt that wouldn't look out of place on the cover of _Witch Weekly,_ his long hair pushed back from his forehead to hang past his shoulders.

“Mind if we sit?” he asks, looking around the table. “You’ve all met Zayn, haven’t you?” That's when Liam notices that Malik -- Zayn’s -- sort of hovering behind him, looking pretty but vaguely uninterested. Liam is fairly certain that's just how Zayn’s face looks.

Louis is the first to react. “By all means. Oi!” He waves towards the bar. “Can we get a couple more Butterbeers over here?”

Harry takes the seat directly across from Liam, and Zayn sinks into the remaining empty chair between Harry and Niall with the grace of a cat. No, Liam decides. A panther. There’s something powerful about him despite his lean frame, and the casual way he drapes one arm over the back of Niall’s chair. If anyone should be rumored to be part Veela, it's Zayn. There's no way those cheekbones are human.

Niall must agree, because he’s suddenly very interested in the bottom of his pint glass. Or maybe he’s remembering Harry’s big hands. Were his cheeks that pink a minute ago?  

“So,” Harry says, clasping his hands together. Silver rings adorn several of his fingers, and it takes a concentrated effort for Liam to tear his gaze away. His eyes meet Harry's across the table, which isn’t any better. Harry's lips curl into a slow smile. “What were you all discussing before we interrupted?”

Liam coughs. “You know, I think I actually need to use the loo? If you'd just excuse me--”

Louis tries to trip him as he pushes his chair back and climbs to his feet. “Don't run away,” he whispers furiously. “Liam, don't you dare--”

He makes a grab for Liam's sleeve, but Liam slips away.

-

The only thing Louis says to him later when he finds Liam loitering in Honeydukes is, “Honestly, mate, if that's the best you can do, you _need_ an amulet.”

Liam wills for a tiny raincloud over his head, hoping that the ground will open up and swallow him. He gets neither, but the edible quills in his hand explode into purple sparks, charring one of his eyebrows.

Damn wordless spells.

Unimpressed, Louis crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a Gryffindor. Even Niall’s braver than you, and he’s a--”

“I know, okay? I know.” Liam takes a deep breath, and swiftly changes the subject. “Where is Niall, anyway?”

Scooping a handful of Every Flavored Beans, Louis shoves them all into his mouth at once. “He doesn’t need an amulet, does he? Because he actually _talks_ to the _people_ he _fancies_.” Louis punctuates his words with several pokes to Liam’s chest, spraying Every Flavored spit as he talks.

Liam drops a few Sickles on the counter to cover the cost of the beans on his way out the door.

-

“Missed you at the Three Broomsticks,” Harry says the following week at Potions, before Liam's even managed to get his copy of Advanced Potion Making out of his book bag. “Where'd you disappear off to?”

“Oh, um.” Liam was not prepared for Harry to just outright _ask_ him about it. “St-stomach bug?” He immediately closes his eyes. What a wonderful visual he's just painted for Harry, scrambling off to the loo because of a _stomach bug_.

Harry just gives him a sympathetic look. “That's rough. Did you have time to get the homework done? The last three inches almost killed me, I swear. I think my handwriting got twice as big just to fill the space up.”

“I – yeah,” Liam says inanely.

Apparently sensing that Liam is a lost cause, Harry leaves him alone for the rest of the lesson, quietly brewing his potion without whispering a single question to Liam. Well. Liam's surprised it took until the second week of lessons to mess things up with Harry. He would have guessed the first.

At least his potion turns out better this time. It's not perfect, but it's a passable Amortentia. He hopes.

“Mmm,” Harry hums, leaning over his own potion, which has turned perfectly clear. “Smells good.”

“Does mine smell okay?” Liam asks, eyeing the slightly cloudy liquid in his cauldron.

Mouth quirking, Harry braces himself with one hand on the table to get closer to Liam's. He takes a few deep sniffs, then nods. “Yeah, mate. Smells great. Like--” He cuts himself off, clearing his throat. “Like you've done a good job,” he finishes.

“Thanks,” Liam tells him, surprised.

“Listen,” Harry says, straightening up to his full height. It puts him at eye level with Liam, which somehow doesn’t keep Liam from dropping his gaze briefly to Harry’s mouth. He snaps his eyes back up, hoping Harry hasn’t noticed. “Since your last Hogsmeade weekend got cut short, do you wanna go again this weekend? With me?” Harry asks. He hastily adds, “I mean, the others can come too, Zayn and Tomlinson and Horan. We could all go, like, as a group, if you want.”

“Oh, I – sorry, but I have a lot of homework to do this weekend,” Liam lies. It’s only Tuesday, but maybe Harry doesn’t regularly consult a calendar.

“Right,” Harry says. He smiles, but it doesn't crease his eyes the way it normally does. “Some other time, then.”

Nodding, Liam looks away, pretending to stir his potion. “Sure, mate.”

-

It ends up being true. Liam does have a lot of homework by the weekend, but Friday night he still finds himself in the corridor outside the Hufflepuff common room, waiting with an excitable Louis and several bottles of contraband Fire Whiskey between them.

“Where the fuck is Niall?” Louis complains, banging his fist on the door.

“He's right here, chill out,” Niall huffs, making his way up the corridor. He has an entire platter of sandwiches in his hands, and turns away from Louis when he reaches for one, blocking him from reach. “Oi, hands off. These are for the party.”

“I _am_ the party,” Louis says grandly. “Now open the fucking door before any prefects catch us.”

Niall just looks at him. “Why would I know the Hufflepuff password?”

The door swings open before the argument can escalate, and Zayn of all people pokes his head out. “Niall,” he says. “Were you not right behind me when we left the dungeons?”

Niall hefts his platter up. “Snacks, bro. _Snacks_.”

Liam exchanges a look with Louis as they follow Niall inside, where the party is already in full swing. On the other side of the silencing spell on the door, the music thumps, and Liam vaguely recognizes the song from the muggle radio stations he still favors during the hols.

Louis wastes no time in pouring them each a drink, and the whiskey burns Liam's throat on the way down. He coughs, and Louis thumps him on the back, laughing loudly.

“Don't look now, Payno, but your boy is here.”

“My-- oh, shit.” Not only is Harry here, wearing a top that is both floral patterned and completely sheer, showing off dark ink on his chest that seems to dance in the firelight from the hearth, but he's making his way towards them. Liam grabs Louis' arm. “I just remembered, I have to go – go do – uh, something important--”

“You need to have another drink and just _talk to him_ ,” Louis says. When Liam tries to back up, eyeing potential escape routes, Louis swiftly wraps an arm around Liam's waist, pinning him in place as Harry finally reaches them.

“Hey, Liam. Tomlinson.” Harry smiles at them both, open and friendly. “Can I get either one of you a drink?”

“Actually,” Louis says, squeezing Liam's hip, “I was just about to go grab something. You two stay here, catch up. I'll be right back.”

He darts away before Liam can stop him, and Liam finds himself trapped by Harry's intense gaze in the middle of a crowded room. He tries dropping his eyes, but he only gets caught up staring at Harry's tattoos. There appears to be a butterfly on his stomach with gently flapping wings, just visible above the only button he's managed to do up. Liam licks his lips with a suddenly dry tongue.

“So,” Harry says, hooking his thumbs in his pockets as the silence drags on. “You, uh, get your homework done then?”

Liam shakes his head. “No. Er, wait, yeah? Some of it, I mean.”

Nodding like Liam's said something genuinely interesting, Harry opens his mouth to reply, but Liam's saved by further conversational fumbling when Louis comes crashing back. Literally.

“Oops, sorry boys. Here, who wants a drink?” He hands a goblet to Liam, and then to Harry. “House special,” he says, grinning wolfishly. “I added something to give it an extra kick. Go on, give it a try.”

Eyeing Louis warily, Liam takes a cautious sniff from his goblet. Whatever Louis' concocted burns his nostrils. Harry doesn't seem to have the same misgivings about drinking something Louis' meddled with, because he immediately tips it back, throat working as he swallows.

“Go on, Liam,” Louis coaxes. “It'll put some hair on your chest.”

“I already have hair on my chest,” Liam mumbles, then turns scarlet when he realizes what he's said. Harry's within _earshot,_ christ what is wrong with him. He hastily takes a large swallow, hoping he can't put his foot in his mouth again if it's full with something else, and promptly chokes. It takes like Fire Whiskey, but somehow stronger. “It's got a kick all right,” he manages to gasp.

Laughing, Louis pulls a small, clear vial out of his pocket. “Yeah, it's--” He cuts himself off suddenly, going still. “Um, Liam,” he says in a very different voice. “Can you tell me what _specifically_ your drink tastes like?”

“Um,” Liam says, glancing down at his goblet. “Really strong Fire Whiskey?”

Louis turns to Harry, holding prolonged eye contact. “Harry, love, please tell me your drink also tastes like Fire Whiskey.”

Slowly, Harry nods. “Yeah, it does.”

Louis continues watches him carefully, glance flickering between Harry's face and the vial in his hand. “You're absolutely positive?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “But also…” He takes another sip and mulls it around his mouth thoughtfully. “It tastes like… chocolate?”

“Chocolate.” Louis repeats flatly.

“Yeah. Chocolate and… sunshine.”

“That's not a taste,” Louis objects.

Harry sounds a little dreamy when he says, “No, no. it's… it's a _feeling_.” He sways a little, and Liam throws a hand out instinctively to catch him by the waist, steadying him. Beaming at him, Harry leans closer, until he can rest his chin on Liam's shoulder. “Have you always been so tall?”

“Louis,” Liam says as evenly as he can manage, taking a step back to try to gently dislodge Harry. It doesn't work. Harry just steps with him, chin digging harder into Liam's shoulder. “What was in that vial?”

Hiding his hand behind his back, Louis says, “Nothing. What vial? I don't know what you're talking about.”

“ _Louis_.” Harry's now wrapping his arms around Liam's waist in kind of a sideways hug, turning his cheek so he can tuck his head under Liam's chin. They're the same height, so he's got to fold himself a bit to accomplish it. It's like being hugged by a hunchbacked koala.

“Fine!” Louis throws his hands up. “If you _must know_ , I may or may not have accidentally spiked Harry's drink with a love potion, okay?”

“Lou,” Harry says, giggling a little. Honest to god giggling, with his face all pressed up in Liam's throat. Liam swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing, and it just makes Harry giggle harder. “Lou, he smells so _good_.”

“Laying it on a bit thick, H,” Louis mutters.

“Laying it on a bit-- _Louis_ ,” Liam hisses. “How the fuck do you accidentally give someone a love potion?”

“It was an honest mistake, and if you ask me, one I can't believe we're still discussing. Haven't we hashed this out enough? Isn't it time we moved on?” Louis shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

Closing his eyes, Liam tries to take a few deep breaths. It doesn’t help. His life is still a complete disaster when he opens them again. “I'm going to murder you and hide your body so deep in the Forbidden Forest, not even the centaurs will be able to find it.”

Louis makes a face. “Why would centaurs be looking for a dead body in the first place? Makes no sense.”

It's not an argument Liam has time for, especially as Harry seems to be trying to climb into his lap. An impressive feat, given that Liam is still standing up. “I don't – look, can you just go find Niall, please? We need to get the antidote _now_.”

-

Liam manages to coax Harry out the door and into the corridor while Louis searches the crowded common room for Niall. No one seems fazed in the slightest that Harry's all over him as Liam hustles him away from the party, even if Liam can feel how hot his face is.

“Please, Harry,” he begs, grabbing Harry's wrists and pinning them to his sides once they're alone. “Can you stop trying to touch me? Just for a bit? Once you get the antidote you're going to regret this, I promise you.”

Harry shakes his head, stubborn. “Don't need an antidote,” he says, dropping his voice to a near purr. “Just need you.”

“How about – do you know what would make me happy?” Liam tries. “What if we just held hands. Would that be all right?”

Harry catches his lip between his teeth, looking up at Liam through his lashes. “You'd be happy?”

“Very,” Liam assures him. Hopefully the love potion means that Harry won't notice – or care – how clammy his palms are.

That's how Louis finds them a few minutes later, Niall and Zayn at his heels. “Well now, isn't this adorable?”

“Louis, if you don't shut your mouth--”

“You'll what? Murder me?” Louis asks sweetly. “Honestly, Payno, you're so predictably muggle-born sometimes. Learn a new hex. Get creative with your threats!”

Liam ignores him, directing his attention to Niall and Zayn. “Did Tommo tell you two what he did to Harry?”

“It was an _accident_ ,” Louis screeches as Niall asks, “Yeah, but does a love potion even work on a Veela?”

Zayn gives him a look. “Harry's not a Veela.”

Niall huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “He's either a Veela, or I'm a slag. Make up your mind, Z.”

Poking Niall twice in the chest and once in the stomach, Zayn grins at him, his tongue pressed up behind his teeth. “You're definitely a slag, even by Slytherin standards.”

Niall turns a bit pink, but he doesn’t exactly look displeased. “Shut it.”

“Oi,” Louis says, looking very displeased. “Is everyone here shagging somebody but me?”

“I'm not shagging anyone,” Liam points out.

Harry's free hand suddenly lands on Liam's thigh, sliding up dangerously close to his crotch. “You could be,” he murmurs, low in Liam's ear.

Liam hastily drops Harry's hand, taking several paces down the corridor. “Okay, new plan. You lot stay here and wait with Harry, and I am going to go find the antidote on my own.”

“Well, that's a stupid plan,” Niall says. “Do you even know which love potion Louis slipped him? How are you gonna find the right antidote?”

“Professor Teasdale keeps the storage room locked. You're not going to be able to get in with a simple Alohomora charm,” Zayn points out.

“If Liam's going, I'm going,” Harry says.

“Like hell am I gonna stay behind while the rest of you break school rules. Forget that. We're all going,” Louis decides.

-

Harry insists on walking so close to Liam that he keeps accidentally tripping him, and when Liam threatens to use a binding spell to help Harry keep his hands to himself, he just says, “Ohh, kinky,” which pretty much ends that discussion.

“I just, I don't understand how this happened,” Liam says as they descend the steps towards the dungeons, fingers laced through Harry's again. It's the only thing that seems to keep Harry happy. “Like, why did you even have a love potion in the first place?”

“Honestly, Liam, it's none of your business,” Louis tells him primly. “And I won't be interrogated like this.”

He refuses to answer another question the rest of the way as Zayn leads them through the winding passages of the dungeons.

“This is it,” he says at last, outside a nondescript wooden door that looks like the dozen of others they've passed along the way. “But I'm telling you, you're not going to be able to get the door unlocked.”

Niall tries Alohomora anyway. “What?” he says when they all stare at him. “What if they just assumed nobody would try it and it worked?”

Rolling his eyes – Liam doesn't know him well, but he thinks he would get on well with Louis – Zayn tries an increasingly more intense set of spells, muttering under his breath as his wand sparks ominously.

None of them work.

“Liam, I think you should just kick the door down,” Harry suggests. He circles his fingers around Liam's biceps, squeezing the muscle. “Bet you're strong enough.”

“I know you're under a love spell,” Niall tells him. “But that's the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard you say.”

“Back off,” Liam says. “He's not in his right mind.” Harry snuggles further into Liam's side, beaming at him.

“Look,” Louis says eventually, after they've exhausted every spell they can think of and somehow turned Niall's hair lilac in the process. Niall’s still scowling about it, but Zayn seems kind of into it. “It'll wear off on it's own in twelve or so hours...” he trails off, looking at Harry. “Twenty-four? Twenty-four, I think. The point is, we can just let it run its course. Problem solved.”

Liam shakes his head. “No, problem _not_ solved. What am I supposed to do with him for the next twelve to twenty-four hours?”

Louis shrugs. “Try not to get expelled for anything indecent?”

-

Harry flat out refuses to go back to the Slytherin common room with Zayn, and there's no way Liam can take him back to own his dorm with the state he's in.

His so-called friends are zero help, abandoning Liam to Harry’s octopus arms because they’re “tired and want to go to bed,” “you mean _my_ bed, right, Niall?” and think Liam should “just snog him a bit, until you wear him out.”

Harry pouts a bit when Liam squashes that idea, but doesn’t stop hanging off Liam. Getting desperate, Liam casts about for an idea, and it hits him like a bolt of lightning. “What about – what if we go up to the Astronomy Tower? We could, um, we could stargaze.”

“You want to stargaze?” Harry repeats, cocking his head to the side.

“Yeah,” Liam says, warming up to the idea. “Yeah, we can stop by the kitchens, get some food to take with us, and just look at the stars all night. It'd be, um, romantic.” It will be cold and windy, which will prevent the removal of any clothes, and also Liam can get a head start on his astronomy homework while he waits for the love potion to wear off. Harry will still be embarrassed once it does, of course, but there may come a time in the future that Liam will be able to look him in the eye again if all they do is lie back and watch the sky.

“Just you and me,” he adds, squeezing Harry's hand.

It's enough to convince Harry, his mouth curving up into that slow smile. “Okay.”

-

The wind is brutal, whistling as it whips by, and Harry shivers in just his thin top. “Liam, I think maybe I should tell you so--” he starts to say, turning around, but Liam shushes him.

“It's all right,” he says, winding his arm over Harry's shoulders. Hefting up the bulging satchel they nicked from the kitchen, he adds, “I think there's a blanket in here we can use.”

Harry presses his lips together into a thin line, but finally nods. He hovers close as Liam lays down the blanket, rubbing his hands over his arms to fight the chill. The spell must be starting to wear off already, because when Liam sits down on the edge of the blanket, Harry doesn't try to crawl on top of him or grope him or anything. He just settles down next to Liam, his head resting on Liam's shoulder as Liam pulls the other end of the blanket over their laps.

“This is nice, right?” Liam says, voice soft. “Just me, you, and the moon.”

Harry's a warm weight against his side, his breath puffing hotly against Liam's neck as he tucks his face in close. “Tell me something,” he says after awhile, voice low and scratchy.

Liam shifts a bit, pulling the blanket higher. “Like what?”

“Something about you,” Harry decides. He sounds half asleep. “Why're you taking Potions?”

“Oh, um. Well, it's stupid probably,” Liam says.

Harry tilts his chin up until he can catch Liam's eye. “I doubt that.”

In the starlight, his eyes look clear, but it's probably just a trick of the light. Liam clears his throat, rubbing his thumb over Harry's silky sleeve in absentminded circles. If Harry remembers any of this tomorrow, it’ll probably be hazy, and talking’s a safe way to pass the time. As Harry tucks his face back into Liam’s neck, Liam decides to tell Harry the long version that not even Louis knows.

“Before I got my letter and found out about, like, this whole magical world, I really wanted to be a firefighter,” he says.

“Sounds dangerous,” Harry mumbles. “Does muggle fire fight back?”

Liam huffs out a small laugh. “Nah, but it – it can be dangerous, cos muggles only use water to try to put it out and they don’t have any protective charms, you know? They just have special gear, and these big hoses, and – well, that part's not important. I only meant, I wanted to be a firefighter until I learned about magic, and then the only thing I really wanted to be was an Auror.”

“That's a really dangerous career, though. You could get hurt.”

“But I'd be helping people,” Liam says. “Saving them, sometimes. Making the world safer. It's worth the risk, I think.”

“You're a Griffyndor to the core,” Harry says, and Liam can't see his face, but he can hear the smile in his voice. He's quiet for a long moment, breathing slow and even, and Liam thinks he's fallen asleep until he says, so softly Liam almost misses it, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

Harry shrugs one shoulder. “Dunno. Being you. Like hearing you talk. S'nice.”

Liam's heart skips a beat before he remembers. It's just the potion. It gives him the courage to say, “Hey, Harry? Can I ask you something?”

Harry nods. “Sure.”

“Ni-- well, someone said that you were part Veela? And I don’t, uh, I don’t think it’s true! I was just wondering, um.” Liam’s palms are damp with sweat, even though he’s cold everywhere Harry isn’t pressed against him. This is a dangerous road to go down. “Nevermind.”

Resting his hand against Liam’s chest, Harry curls further into him, his thigh sliding along Liam’s until they’re touching from shoulder to ankle. “M’not a Veela,” he says. “I just have a bit of a... reputation.”

It’s on the tip of Liam’s tongue to ask him if any of it is true, but he swallows the words back. That isn’t a fair question to ask, not when Harry’s enchanted.

“Okay,” he says instead.

“Liam, I--” Harry heaves out a sigh. “I fancy you,” he says, the words muffled because his face is still buried in Liam’s neck. “Just for tonight, okay? Let me have this, just for tonight.”

Just until the potion wears off, Liam thinks. He doesn't answer, and Harry really does fall asleep this time, his quiet breathing turning into not so quiet snores.

Eyes closed, Liam lets his head rest against the stone bulwark behind him. He must drift off a little himself, because when he opens his eyes again, the dark has faded to the gray of early dawn. Harry's still snoring, his pink mouth open and his dark lashes dusting his cheeks, and he makes a prettier picture than the rays of sunlight that shine through the clouds, painting everything gold.

Harry's eyes flicker, and then he's blinking awake, his gaze taking a long moment to focus.

“Liam,” he says, voice thick with sleep. “You're still here.”

Liam looks at him. “Where else would I be?”

He doesn't see it coming. One second, Harry is staring at him, his eyes more gray than green in the early morning light, and the next, his mouth is touching Liam's, a gentle, almost tentative brush of lips.

It takes Liam a moment to register that Harry's kissing him, and as soon as he's processed that fact he's kissing Harry back, one hand cupping his face, his thumb sweeping over Harry's soft cheek.

The memory of the love potion hits him with the force of a tidal wave, and Liam scrambles back, covering his mouth with his hand in horror. “Oh my god, I'm so sorry.”

“For what?” Harry asks him a bit grumpily. “Come back, I wasn't done.”

Liam shakes his head. “No, Harry, not until the potion wears off. You – look, you think you want this now, but I promise you won't later, and I'm not – I wouldn't – I'm not the kind of person to, to take advantage of someone who--”

Harry's mouth twitches at the corners. “You're cute when you're flustered,” he says.

When Liam hides his face in his hands, Harry crawls closer, fingers wrapping around Liam's wrists to tug them away. “Hey now,” he says. “Liam, look at me. _Really_ look at me.”

Reluctantly, Liam lifts his head and looks at Harry.

“I'm not under a love potion, okay? Promise.”

His eyes do look clear, but – “You – then why did you kiss me?”

Harry bites his lip. “I, uh. Please don't be mad, but I was never actually under a love potion?”

Oh, god. Harry’s grip on his wrists tighten when Liam tries to lift his hands to hide his face again. “Liam, _please_. I just, I really like you, but you always avoid me, and I thought maybe the whole, love spell thing would get your to lower your guard a bit, and um--”

“But – _Louis_ \--”

“Was in on it,” Harry admits. “We came up with the idea the day you ran off from the Three Broomsticks.” Dropping Liam’s wrists, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Look, I'm sorry, okay? I know it wasn't right, tricking you like that, I just--”

“Harry,” Liam interrupts, a little desperately. “Why did you _kiss me_?”

“Oh, I -- I thought you knew. Liam. I fancy you. Louis said you fancied me too, you just needed a push in the right direction, and like I said, I know it was wrong, but--” He cuts himself off, chewing on his bottom lip. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? That I have a -- a reputation.”

Harry’s hair is a wreck from being curled up against Liam all night, his eyes still puffy with sleep. The wind isn’t as biting as it was last night, but Harry shivers in just his thin top.

Liam takes a deep breath. Harry was never under a love spell. He spent the night freezing in the Astronomy Tower because he fancies Liam.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Liam tells him. Harry makes a surprised noise when Liam leans forward and kisses him, but recovers quickly enough, his arms sliding around Liam’s neck.

They’re both breathing a little hard by the time Liam breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Harry’s. “Oh, god,” he says. “Louis is never gonna let me live this down, is he? This is a _disaster_.”

Harry just laughs, pulling Liam in to kiss him again.

 


End file.
